BIB     BALLADS 


Copyright  1915 
P.  F.  Volland  &  Co. 

Chicago,  U.  S.  A. 
(All  Rights  Reserved) 


B  B  BALLADS 


W.  LARPNER 


FONTAINE     FOX"" C;'  '' 


Published      t?y 
P.  F.VOL-LAND  s>  CO. 


NEW 


TOKOMTO 


FOREWORD 

Dear  Parents : — Don't  imagine,  please, 
It's  in  a  boastful  spirit 
I  fashion  verses  such  as  these ; 
That's  not  the  truth  or  near  it. 

A  hundred  or  a  thousand,  yes, 
A  million  kids  there  may  be 
Who  aren't  one  iota  less 
Attractive  than  this  baby. 

I'll  venture  that  your  household  has 
As  valuable  a  treasure 
As  mine,  but  mine  I  know,  and  as 
For  yours,  I've  not  that  pleasure. 

And  that  is  why  my  book's  about 
Just  one,  O  Dads  and  Mothers; 
But  babes  are  babes,  and  mine,  no  doubt. 
Is  very  much  like  others. 

THE    AUTHOR 


BIB     BALLADS 


B   'BALLADS 


GOOD -BY  BILL 

Dollar  Bill,  that  I've  held  so  tight 
Ever  since  payday,  a  week  ago, 
Shall  I  purchase  with  you  tonight 
A  pair  of  seats  at  the  vaudeville  show? 
(Hark!  A  voice  from  the  easy  chair: 
'Look  at  his  shoes!  We  must  buy  a  pair.") 

Dollar  Bill,  from  the  wreckage  saved. 
Tell  me,  how  shall  I  squander  you? 
Shall  I  be  shined,  shampooed  and  shaved. 
Singed  and  trimmed  'round  the  edges,  too? 
(Hark !  A  voice  from  the  easy  chair : 
He  hasn't  a  romper  that's  fit  to  wear.") 

Dollar  Bill,  that  I  cherished  so. 
Think  of  the  cigarettes  you'd  buy, 
Turkish  ones,  with  a  kick,  you  know; 
Makin's  eventually  tire  a  guy. 
(Hark!  A  voice  from  the  easy  chair: 
'Look  at  those  stockings!  Just  one  big  tear!") 

Dollar  Bill,  it  is  time  to  part. 
What  do  I  care  for  a  vaudeville  show? 
I'll  shave  myself  and  look  just  as  smart. 
Makin's  aren't  so  bad,  you  know. 
Dollar  Bill,  we  must  say  good-by; 
There  on  the  floor  is  the  Reason  Why. 


BIB     BALLADS 


BIB     BALLADS 


A  VISIT  FROM  YOUNG  GLOOM 

There's  been  a  young  stranger  at  our  house, 
A  baby  whom  nobody  knew; 
Who  hated  his  brother,  his  father,  his  mother. 
And  made  them  aware  of  it.  too. 

He  stayed  with  us  nearly  a  fortnight 

And  carried  a  grouch  all  the  while. 

Nor  promise  nor  present  could  make  him  look  pleasant: 

He  hadn't  the  power  to  smile. 

He  cried  when  he  couldn't  have  something; 

He  cried  just  as  hard  when  he  could  : 

Kind  words  by  the  earful  but  made  him  more  tearful. 

And  scoldings  did  just  as  much  good. 

He  stormed  when  his  meals  weren't  ready. 
And  when  they  were  ready,  he  screamed. 
He  went  to  bed  growling,  got  up  again  howling 
And  quarreled  and  snarled  as  he  dreamed. 

He's  gone,  and  the  child  we  are  fond  of 
Is  back,  just  as  nice  as  of  old. 
But  I  hope  to  be  in  some  port  European 
The  next  time  he  has  a  bad  cold. 


BIB     BALLADS 


BIB     BALLADS 


AN  APPRECIATIVE 
AUDIENCE 

My  son,  I  wish  that  it  were  half 
As  easy  to  extract  a  laugh 
From  grown-ups  as  from  thee. 
Then  I'd  go  on  the  stage,  my  boy, 
While  Richard  Carle  and  Eddie  Foy 
Burned  up  with  jealousy. 

I  wouldn't  have  to  rack  my  brain 

Or  lie  awake  all  night  in  vain 

Pursuit  of  brand  new  jokes; 

Nor  fear  my  lines  were  heard  with  groans 

Of  pain  and  sympathetic  moans 

From  sympathetic  folks. 

I'd  merely  have  to  make  a  face. 
Just  twist  a  feature  out  of  place. 
And  be  the  soul  of  wit; 
Or  bark,  and  then  pretend  to  bite. 
And,  from  the  screams  of  wild  delight. 
Be  sure  I'd  made  a  hit. 


BIB     BALLADS 


BIB    BALLADS 


DISCIPLINE 

He  couldn't  have  a  doughnut,  and  it  made 

him  very  mad ; 
He  undertook  to  get  revenge  by  screaming  at 

his  dad. 

"Cut  out  that  noise!"  I  ordered,  and  he  gave 

another  roar, 

And  so  I  put  him  in  "the  room"  and  shut  and 
locked  the  door. 

I  left  him  in  his  prison  cell  two  minutes,  just 

about, 
And,  penitent,  he  smiled  at  me  when  I  did  let 

him  out. 

But  when  he  got  another  look  at  the  forbidden 

fruit 

He  gave  a  yell  that  they  could  hear  in 
Jacksonville  or  Butte. 

"Cut  out  that  noise!"  I  barked  again.  "Cut 

out  that  foghorn  stuff! 

Perhaps  I  didn't  leave  you  in  your  prison  long 
enough. 

"You  want  your  dad  to  keep  you  jailed  all 

afternoon,  I  guess." 

He  smiled  at  me  and  answered  his  equivalent 
for  "yes  " 


BIB     BALLADS 


BIB    BALLADS 


INEXPENSIVE  GUESTS 

I  wonder  how  'twould  make  you  feel. 

My  fellow  food  providers, 
To  have  as  guests  at  ev'ry  meal 

Three — count  'em,  three — outsiders. 

Well,  that's  the  case  with  me,  but  still 

I  don't  complain  or  holler, 
For.  strange  to  say,  the  grocVy  bill 

Has  not  gone  up  a  dollar. 

These  guests  of  ours,  to  make  it  brief. 
Can't  really  chew  or  swallow; 

They're  merely  dolls,  called  Indian  Chief, 
And  Funny  Man,  and  Rollo 


BIB    BALLADS 


B     BALLADS 


HIS  SENSE  OF  HUMOR 

Perhaps  in  some  respects  it's  true 

That  you  resemble  dad ; 
To  be  informed  I  look  like  you 

Would  never  make  me  mad. 
But  one  thing  I  am  sure  of.  son. 

You  have  a  different  line 
Of  humor .  your  idea  of  fun 

Is  not  a  bit  like  mine. 

You  drop  my  slippers  in  the  sink 

And  leave  them  there  to  soak. 
That's  very  laughable,  you  think 

But  I  can't  see  the  joke 
You  take  my  hat  outdoors  with  you 

And  fill  it  full  of  earth; 
You  seem  to  think  that's  witty,  too. 

But  I'm  not  moved  to  mirth. 

You  open  up  the  chicken- yard; 

Its  inmates  run  a  mile; 
You  giggle,  but  I  find  it  hard 

To  force  one- half  a  smile. 
No,  kid,  I  fear  your  funny  stuff. 

Though  funny  it  may  be. 
Is  not  quite  delicate  enough 

To  make  a  hit  with  me. 


BIB     BALLADS 


BIB     BALLADS 


SPEECH  ECONOMY 

Since  he  began  to  talk  and  sing, 
I've  learned  one  interesting  thing— 
The  value  of  a  verb  is  small ; 
In  fact,  it  has  no  worth  at  all. 

Why  waste  the  breath  required  to  say, 
'While  toddling  through  the  park  today. 
I  saw  a  bird  up  in  a  tree," 
When  "Twee,  pahk,  birt,"  does  splendidly? 

Why  should  one  say,  "Please  pass  the  bread. 
When  "Ba-ba  me"  is  easier  said? 
And  why  "I'm  starved.    Have  supper  quick. 
When  "LUNCH'"  yelled  loudly,  does  the 
trick  ? 

Why  "I've  been  riding  on  a  train," 
When  "By-by,  Choo-choo"  makes  it  plain7 
'Let  words  be  few,"  the  poet  saith. 
So  leave  out  words  and  save  your  breath. 


BIB     BALLADS 


B     BALLADS 


WELCOME  TO  SPRING 

Spring,  you  are  welcome,  for  you  are  the  friend  of 
Fathers  of  all  little  girlies  and  chaps. 
Spring,  you  are  welcome,  for  you  mean  the  end  of 
Bundling  them  up  in  their  cold- weather  wraps. 

Breathes  there  a  parent  of  masculine  gender. 
One  whose  young  hopeful  is  seven  or  less. 
Who  never  has  cursed  the  designer  and  vender 
Of  juvenile-out-of-doors- winter- time  dress  ? 

Leggings  and  overcoat,  rubbers  that  squeeze  on. 
Mittens  and  sweater  a  trifle  too  small ; 
Not  in  the  lot  is  one  thing  you  can  ease  on. 
One  that's  affixed  with  no  trouble  at  all. 

Spring,  you  are  welcome,  thrice  welcome  to  father ; 
Not  for  your  flowers  and  birds.  I'm  afraid. 
As  much  as  your  promised  relief  from  the  bother 
Of  bundling  the  kid  for  the  daily  parade. 

r~ 


B     BALLADS 


BALLADS 


TASTE 

I  can't  understand  why  you  pass  up  the  toys 
That  Santa  considered  just  right  for  small  boys; 
I  can't  understand  why  you  turn  up  your  nose 
At  dogs,  hobby-horses,  and  treasures  like  those. 
And  play  a  whole  hour,  sometimes  longer  than 

that. 
With  a  thing  as  prosaic  as  daddy's  old  hat. 

The  tables  and  shelves  have  been  loaded  for 

you 
With  volumes  of  pictures— they're  pretty  ones, 

too— 
Of  birds,  beasts,  and  fishes,  and  old  Mother 

Goose 

Repines  in  a  corner  and  feels  like  the  deuce. 
While  you,  on  the  floor,  quite  contentedly  look' 
At  page  after  page  of  the  telephone  book 


BIB     BALLADS 


BIB     BALLADS 


RIDDLES 

If  it's  fun  to  take  books  from  the  bookcase. 

If  you  really  believe  it's  worth  while 
To  carry  them  out  to  the  kitchen 

And  build  them  alhup  in  a  pile. 
Why  isn't  it  just  as  agreeable  then 
To  carry  them  back  to  the  bookcase  again? 

If  it's  fun  to  make  marks  with  a  pencil 
In  books  that  one  cares  for  a  heap; 

To  tear  out  the  pages  from  volumes 
One  likes  and  is  anxious  to  keep. 

Why  isn't  it  pleasure  to  put  on  the  hummer 

A  magazine  read  and  discarded  last  summer? 


BIB    BALLADS 


BIB     BALLADS 


HESITATION 

I've  orders  to  waken  you  from  your  nap. 
And  orders  are  orders,  my  little  chap. 
But  I  hate  to  do  it,  because  it  seems 
A  shame  to  break  in  on  your  blissful  dreams. 

I've  sat  and  watched  you  a  long,  long  while. 
And  not  since  I  came  have  you  ceased  to  smile, 
So  it  strikes  me  as  wrong  to  arouse  you,  boy. 
From  sleep  that's  so  plainly  a  sleep  of  joy. 

Twill  make  a  big  diff'rence  tonight,  of  course. 
But  p'rhaps  you  are  riding  a  real  live  horse ; 
In  dreams,  it's  a  pleasant  and  harmless  sport. 
So  why  should  I  cruelly  cut  it  short? 

Maybe  you  have  for  your  very  own 

A  piece  of  pie  or  an  ice  cream  cone ; 

If  that's  your  amusement,  why  end  it  quick? 

Dream-food  can't  possibly  make  you  sick. 

Orders  are  orders  and  I'm  afraid 
It's  trouble  for  me  if  they're  disobeyed. 
But  I'll  bet  if  the  boss  could  see  you,  son. 
She'd  put  off  the  duty,  as  I  have  done. 


BIB     BALLADS 


BIB     BALLADS 


HIS  WONDERFUL  CHOO-CHOOS 

When  I  see  his  wonderful  choo-choo  trains, 

Which  he  daily  builds  with  infinite  pains. 

Whose  cars  are  a  crazy  and  curious  lot— 

A  doll,  a  picture,  a  pepper  pot, 

A  hat.  a  pillow,  a  horse,  a  book. 

A  pote.  a  mintie.  a  button  hook. 

A  bag  of  tobacco,  a  piece  of  string. 

A  pair  of  wubbas.  a  bodkin  ring. 

A  deck  of  twos  and  a  paper  box. 

A  brush,  a  comb  and  a  lot  of  blocks— 

When  I  first  gaze  on  his  wonderful  trains. 

Which  he  daily  builds  with  infinite  pains. 

I  laugh,  and  1  think  to  myself.  "O  gee! 

Was  ever  a  child  as  cute  as  he?" 

But  when  he's  gone  to  his  cozy  nest. 
From  the  toil  of  his  strenuous  day  to  rest. 
And  when  I  gaze  on  his  trains  once  more. 
Where  they  lie.  abandoned,  across  the  floor. 
And  when  the  terrible  task  I  face 
Of  putting  each  "Pullman"  back  in  its  place, 
I  groan  a  little,  and  think.  "O  gee! 
Was  ever  a  child  as  mean  as  he?" 


GLOSSARY 
Bodkin—A  napkin. 
Mintie— A  mittea 
Pote— A  pencil. 
Twos— Cards. 


B     BALLADS 


BIB    BALLADS 


COUSINLY  AFFECTION 

Why  do  you  love  your  Cousin  Paul!? 
For  his  sweet  face,  his  smile,  and  all 
The  little  tricks  that  charm  us  so? 
You're  not  quite  old  enough  to  know 
How  cute  he  is;  to  realize 
How  clever  for  a  child  his  size. 
I'm  sure  you  can't  appreciate 
The  things  that  make  us  think  him  great. 

And  yet  you  love  your  Cousin  Paull. 

Is  it  because  he's  twice  as  small 

As  you,  just  right  for  you  to  maul? 

Because  he  won't  fight  back,  or  bawl? 

Because  when  he  is  pushed  he'll  fall? 

And,  where  most  kids  would  howl  and  squall. 

He  takes  it,  nor  puts  in  a  call 

For  mother?    Am  I  warm  at  all? 

Is  this  why  you  love  Cousin  Paull? 


BIB    BALLADS 


» //  ' 


i  *     »     '  V 

)»        M    l"    \. 
11  J  7  I1    I/  (*/   i'/  Vl 


'n^S)     4  i 

I    >*     ^        •/* 

?^r 


BIB     BALLADS 


MY  BABY'S  GARDEN 

My  baby  has  a  garden. 
"Planted"  four  days  ago; 
And  nearly  half  his  waking  hours 
He  spends  among  his  precious  flowers 
With  sprinkling  can  and  hoe. 

My  baby  has  a  garden. 
And  Oh,  how  proud  he  is 
When,  yielding  to  his  pleading,  we 
Lay  work  aside  and  go  to  see 
This  masterpiece  of  his! 

Behold  my  baby's  garden. 

Close  by  a  rubbish  pile ! 

Look  at  the  sprinkling  can  and  hoe 

And  flowers:  then  tell  me  if  you  know 

Whether  to  sigh  or  smile. 

The  flowers  in  baby's  garden. 
Flat  on  the  ground  they  lie. 
Two  hyacinths,  a  withered  pair. 
Plucked  from  the  pile  of  rubbish,  where 
They  had  been  left  to  die. 

The  flowers  in  baby's  garden. 
"  Planted"  four  days  ago. 
Grow  every  hour  a  sadder  sight. 
Weaker  and  sicklier,  in  spite 
Of  sprinkling  can  and  hoe. 


BIB     BALLADS 


BIB     BALLADS 


DECISION  REVERSED 

When  I  mixed  with  the  shoppers  and  fought  in 

vain 

To  get  what  I  sought,  in  the  Christmas  rush; 
When  they  stood  on  my  toes  in  the  crowded 

train. 

Or  dented  my  ribs  in  the  sidewalk  crush. 
[  dropped  my  manners  and  snarled  and  swore. 
And  thought:  "It's  a  bothersome,  beastly 
bore!" 

But  when,  at  the  Christmas  dawn,  they  brought 
My  kid  to  the  room  where  his  things  were 
piled. 

And  when,  from  my  vantage  point.  I  caught 
The  look  on  his  face,  I  murmured:  "Child. 

Your  dad  was  a  fool  when  he  snarled  and  swore. 

And  called  it  a  bothersome,  beastly  bore." 


BIB     BALLADS 


B  BALLADS 


THE  GROCERY  MAN  AND 
THE  BEAR 

He  was  weary  of  all  of  his  usual  joys; 

His  books  and  his  blocks  made  him  tired. 
And  so  did  his  games  and  mechanical  toys. 

And  the  songs  he  had  always  admired ; 
So  I  told  him  a  story,  a  story  so  new 

It  had  never  been  heard  anywhere; 
A  tale  disconnected,  unlikely,  untrue. 

Galled  The  Grocery  Man  and  the  Bear 

I  didn't  think  much  of  the  story  despite. 

The  fact  'twas  a  child  of  my  brain. 
And  I  never  dreamt,  when  I  told  it  that  night, 

That  I'd  have  to  tell  it  again; 
I  never  imagined  'twould  make  such  a  hit 

With  the  audience  of  one  that  was  there 
That  for  hours  at  a  time  he  would  quietly  sit 

Through  The  Grocery  Man  and  the  Bear 

To  all  other  stories,  this  one  is  preferred : 

It's  the  season's  best  seller  by  far, 
And  out  at  our  house  it's  as  frequently  heard 

As  cuss- words  in  Mexico  are 
When  choo-choos  and  horses  and  picture  books 
fail. 

He'll  remain,  quite  content,  in  his  chair. 
While  I  tell  o'er  and  o'er  the  incredible  tale 

Of  The  Grocery  Man  and  the  Bear. 


BIB     BALLADS 


BIB     BALLADS 


COMING  HOME 

Prepare  for  noise,  you  quiet  walls! 
You  floors,  get  set  for  heavy  falls ! 

Frail  dishes,  hide  away! 
Get  ready  for  some  scratches,  stairs! 
Clean  table  linen,  say  your  prayers! 

The  kid  comes  home  today ! 

por  three  long  weeks  you've  been,  O  House, 
As  noiseless  as  the  well-known  mouse. 

As  silent  as  the  tomb. 
And  you've  stayed  neat,  with  none  on  hand 
To  track  your  floors  with  mud  and  sand. 

To  muss  your  ev'ry  room. 

The  ideal  place  for  work  you've  been. 
But  soon  a  Bedlam  once  again. 

A  mess,  a  wreck.  But  say, 
I  wonder  will  it  make  us  mad. 
No,  House,  I'll  bet  we  both  are  glad 

The  kid  comes  home  today. 


BIB     BALLADS 


BIB     BALLADS 


HIS  IMAGINATION 

One  thing  that's  yours,  my  little  child 

Your  poor  old  dad  is  simply  wild 

To  own.    It's  not  a  book  or  toy ; 

It's  your  imagination,  boy. 

If  I  possessed  it,  what  a  time 

I'd  have,  nor  need  to  spend  a  dime! 

I  wish  that  I  could  get  astride 

A  broom,  and  have  a  horse  to  ride ; 

Or  climb  into  the  swing,  and  be 

A  sailor  on  the  deep  blue  sea. 

Or  b'lieve  a  chair  a  choo-choo  train. 

Bound  anywhere  and  back  again. 

If  1  could  ride  as  fast  and  far 
On  ship  or  horse,  in  train  or  car. 
As  you.  at  small  expense  or  none, 
If  1  could  have  one-half  your  fun 
And  do  the  things  that  you  do,  free, 
I'd  give  them  back  my  salary. 


BIB    BALLADS 


BIB     BALLADS 


HIS  MEMORY 

Besides  my  little  son's  imagination. 
Another  thing  he  has  appeals  to  me 
And  agitates  my  envious  admiration- 
It's  hrs  accommodating  memory. 

An  instant  after  some  unlucky  stumble 
Has  floored  him  and  induced  a  howl  of  pain. 
He's  clean  forgotten  all  about  his  tumble 
And  violently  sets  out  to  romp  again, 

But  if,  when  I  leave  home,  I  say  that  maybe 
I'll  get  him  something  nice  while  I'm  away. 
It's  very  safe  to  bet  that  Mr.  Baby 
Will  not  forget,  though  I  be  gone  all  day. 

Ah,  would  I  might  lose  sight  of  things 

unpleasant : 

The  bills  I  owe;  the  work  I  haven't  done. 
And  only  think  of  future  joys  and  present. 
Like  the  approaching  payday,  and  my  son. 


B     BALLADS 


1    / 

Sv- 


\  \ 


BIB     BALLADS 


CONFESSION 

A  sleuth  like  Pinkerton  or  Burns 

Is  told  that  there  has  been  a  crime. 

He  runs  down  clues  and  leads,  and  learns 

Who  did  the  deed,  in  course  of  time. 

It's  just  the  other  way  with  me: 

The  first  thing  I  am  sure  of  is 

The  criminal's  identity. 

And  then  I  learn  what  crime  was  his. 

When  Son  comes  up  with  hanging  head 
And  smiles  a  certain  kind  of  smile. 
When  he's  affectionate  instead 
Of  playful ;  when  he  stalls  awhile 
And  starts  to  speak  and  stops  again. 
Or,  squirming  like  a  mouse  that's  caught. 
Asserts.  "I  am  a  GOOD  boy."  then 
I  look  to  see  what  harm's  been  wrought. 


BIB     BALLADS 


BIB     BALLAD'S 


HIS  LADY  FRIEND 

Who  is  Sylvia?    What  is  she 
That  early  every  morning 

You  desert  your  family 
And  rush  to  see  her,  scorning 

Your  once  cherished  ma  and  me? 

Are  her  playthings  such  a  treat? 

I  will  steal  'em  from  her; 
Better  that  than  not  to  meet 

My  son  and  heir  all  summer. 
Save  when  he  comes  home  to  eat. 

Or  is  she  herself  the  one 
And  only  real  attraction? 

Has  your  little  heart  begun 
To  get  that  sort  of  action? 

Better  wait  a  few  years,  son. 


BIB     BALLADS 


BIB     BALLADS 


DECLARATION  OF 
INDEPENDENCE 

'MYSELF!"   It  means  that  you  don't  care 
To  have  me  lift  you  in  your  chair ; 
That  if  I  do,  you'll  rage  and  tear. 

'MYSELF!"   It  means  you  don't  require 
Assistance  from  your  willing  sire 
In  eating;  'twill  but  rouse  your  ire. 

'MYSELF!"   It  means  when  you  are  through 
That  you  don't  want  your  daddy  to 
Unseat  you,  as  he  used  to  do. 

Time  was/and  not  so  long  ago, 
When  you  were  carried  to  .and  fro 
And  waited  on,  but  now?    No!   No! 

You'd  rather  fall  and  break  your  head. 
Or  fill  your  lap  with  cream  and  bread 
Than  be  helped  up  or  down,  or  fed. 

Well,  kid,  I  hope  you'll  stay  that  way 
And  that  there'll  never  come  a  day 
When  you're  without  the  strength  to'  say, 
"MYSELF!" 


BIB     BALLADS 


BIB     BALLADS 


THE  ETERNAL  GREETING 

What  is  the  welcoming  word  1  hear 

When  I  reach  home  at  the  close  of  day? 
'Glad  you  are  with  us,  daddy,  dear?" 

Something  I'd  like  to  hear  you  say? 

No.  it  is  this,  invariably : 
'Daddy,  what  have  you  got  for  me?" 

'Deep  affection."  I  might  reply; 

What  would  it  profit  if  I  did? 

I  might  answer:  "The  price  to  buy 

Clothes  and  edibles  for  you,  kid." 

You  would  repeat,  insistently : 
'Daddy,  what  have  you  got  for  me?" 

Isn't  my  Self  enough  for  you? 
Doesn't  my  Presence  satisfy? 
No.  that  spelling  would  never  do; 
You  want  Presents,  a  new  supply. 
When  you  inquire  so  eagerly : 
'Daddy,  what  have  you  got  for  me?" 

'Twould  be  much  nicer  and  cheaper,  son. 
If  I  were  welcome  without  a  toy, 
But  as  I'm  not,  I  must  purchase  one 
And  take  my  reward  from  your  look  of  joy 
When  you  open  the  bundle  and  cry:-"O,  see! 
See  what  daddy  has  got  for  me  I" 


BIB    BALLADS 


BIB     BALLADS 


GUESS  AGAIN 

"I  guess  I'll  help  you,  daddy." 

And  daddy  can't  say  "No;" 
For  if  he  did,  'twould  wound  you,  kid, 
And  cause  the  tears  to  flow. 

'I  guess  I'll  help  you,  daddy." 
And  daddy  says :   "All  right," 

And  tries  to  do,  ignoring  you. 
Whatever  work's  in  sight. 

But  what's  the  use  of  trying? 

As  well  be  reconciled 
To  quit  and  play  the  game  that  may 

Be  pleasing  to  you,  child. 

To  quit  and  play,  or  roughhouse. 

Or  read,  as  you  elect; 
For  I'm  afraid  the  guess  you  made 

Was  wholly  incorrect. 


BIB     BALLADS 


BIB     BALLADS 


NEARLY  A  SINECURE 

'I'm  going  to  the  office," 

So  says  my  youngster,  and 
Gets  on  the  train  to  take  him  there 
(The  train's  the  sofa  or  a  chair. 

Whichever 's  near  at  hand  ) 

Now  1  am  to  the  office . 

I'm  working  now.'  says  he. 
And  just  continues  standing  there 
On  that  same  lounge  or  that  same  chair. 

As  idle  as  can  be. 

Perhaps  four  seconds  after 

He  first  got  on  his  train, 
I  see  him  getting  off  once  more. 
He  steps  or  falls  onto  the  floor 

And  says,  "I'm  home  again." 

I  don't  know  what  they  pay  him. 

Nor  where  the  office  is. 
The  nature  of  the  boy's  posish 
I've  never  learned— but  how  I  wish 

I  had  that  job  of  his! 


BIB     BALLADS 


BIB     BALLADS 


THE  HECKUSES 

That  may  not  be  the  proper  way 
To  spell  their  name;  I  cannot  say. 
I've  never  seen  'em  written  out; 
I've  only  heard  'em  talked  about. 
They're  coming  here  tonight  to  dine. 
So  says  that  little  son  of  mine. 
But  all  last  week,  'twas  just  the  same; 
They  were  to  come,  and  never  came. 

And  I'm  just  skeptical  enough 
To  think  they're  all  a  myth,  a  bluff; 
Mere  creatures  of  my  youngster's  brain. 
Whose  coming  he'll  await  in  vain. 
And  yet  to  him  they're  very  real . 
They  own  a  big  black  auto'bile. 
They  work  downtown,  and  they'll  arrive 
Out  here  at  one- two- three- four- five 

The  Heckuses  are  four  all  told 
There  s  Mrs.H  .  who's  very  old. 
And  Baby  Heck  us.  and  a  lad 
Named  Tom.  and  Bill,  the  Heckus  dad 
Beyond  this  point  I  can't  describe 
The  fascinating  Heckus  tribe 
I  can  but  wonder  how  he  came 
To  think  of  such  a  lovely  name 


BIB     BALLADS 


BIB     BALLADS 


HIS  FAVORITE  ROLE 

You  could  be  president  as  well  as  not. 

Since  all  you'd  have  to  do  is  think  you  were, 
With  that  imagination  that  you've  got; 

Or  multimillionaire  if  you  prefer, 
Or  you  could  be  some  famous  football  star. 

Or  Tyrus  Cobb,  admired  by  ev'ry  fan; 
Instead  of  that,  you  tell  me  that  you  are 

The  Garbage  Man. 

Why  pick  him  out,  when  you  can  take  your  choice  ? 

Is  his  so  charming,  nice,  and  sweet  a  role 
That  acting  it  should  make  you  to  rejoice 

And  be  a  source  of  comfort  to  your  soul? 
Is  there  some  hidden  happiness  that  he 

Uncovers  in  his  march  from  can  to  can 
That  you  above  all  else  should  want  to  be 

The  Garbage  Man  ? 


BIB     BALLADS 


B     BALLADS 


THE  PATHS  OF  RASHNESS 

Up  to  the  sky  the  birdman  flew 
And  looped  some  loops  that  were  bold  and  new. 
The  people  marvelled  at  nerve  so  great 
And  gasped  or  cheered  as  he  tempted  fate. 
More  daring  each  day  than  the  day  before. 
Till  the  birdman  fell  and  arose  no  more. 

The  bandit  bragged  of  his  daylight  crimes 
And  said:    "I'm  the  wonder  of  modern  times." 
Bolder  and  bolder  his  thefts  became. 
And  the  people  shook  when  they  heard  his  name. 
He  boasted:     "I'm  one  that  they'll  never  get." 
But  he  jollied  himself  into  Joliet. 

Well,  son,  I  suppose  you  would  be  admired 

l^or  the  valorous  habit  that  you've  acquired 

Of  rushing  at  each  little  girl  you  meet 

And  hugging  her  tight  in  the  public  street. 

But  the  day  will  come,  I  have  not  a  doubt. 

When  you'll  stagger  home  with  an  eye  scratched  out. 


BIB     BALLADS 


BIB    BALLADS 


THE  NEW  PLAYTHING 

I  wonder  what  your  thought  will  be 
And  what  you'll  say  and  do.  sir. 
When  you  come  home  again  and  see 
What  Daddy's  got  for  you.  sir. 

I  wonder  if  you'll,  like  it.  boy. 

Or  turn  away  disgusted 

(You've  often  scorned  a  nice,  new  toy 

For  one  that's  old  and  busted.) 

I  wonder  if  you'll  laugh,  or  cry 
And  run  "in  fright  to  mother, 
Or  just  act  bored  to  death,  when  1 
Show  you  your  brand  new  brother 


14  DAY  USE 

TO  DBSK  FROM  WHJCH  BORHOWED 

LOAN  DEPT 


LOAN 


IIERUBRARYLOAN 


2  6  2000 


LD  2lA-60m-4,'64 
(E4555sJO)476B 


General  Library 


1061 


LD  21-100^-7, ' 


YC I 06345 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


